Out for blood
by Tamano Setsuna
Summary: It started when some man manages to get into G8 meeting and attacks England. From there it went downhill. Can France save him? Or will it end up in tragedy? FrUK
1. Chapter 1

The G8 meeting wasn't going as smoothly as one would expect. Or more precisely, it was exactly as one would expect. England and France started to fight not even half thorough the meeting, America was shouting about hero this and hero that, so France and England somehow managed to join forces and attacked the burger loving nation. Russia as usually was just sitting and smiling quietly, enjoying himself.

On the other side, Japan sweat dropped, and pushed his chair as far as he managed, because he didn't want to get involved in something so troublesome like this. The meekly Canada wanted to calm his brother and their supposed big brother, but was ignored. Again. He sighed. He felt so … transparent. Not even his own bear could remember his name.

Germany was getting annoyed. Scratch that. He was pissed as hell. It was his turn to host the meeting again, and he tried so hard to prepare everything, so it could go smoothly, but no. He wasn't meant to have peaceful meeting. Those idiots had to start a fight again, and ruin everything. A large vein was pulsating on Germany's forehead, just threating to pop. And when the Italy twins started to complain that they are hungry, and loud must I say, that was the last straw.

Germany banged both of his fists on the wooden table and shouted, catching everyone's attention, "SHUT UP!" At that everyone in the room froze. Nobody dared to make even a sound, when Germany was angry. At times like this, he could be even scarier than Russia. If someone dropped a pin in that room, everybody would have heard it. The blond haired German closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he looked around the room.

Someone gulped loudly, as if preparing themselves for the worst. "Maybe," Germany started slowly, "We should take a break. It's already lunch time and that's probably why we are so cranky." Several nations exhaled relieved, only now noticing, that they held their breaths, waiting for Germany to yell at them.

Everyone in the room nodded. Yeah, break would be fine. At least they would have time to cool off. And it would shut up the Italys. The younger one was already on his feet, waving his arms wildly, "Ve! Lunch. I wonder if we get pasta. Ne, ne, Germany, can we get pasta?" Romano just rolled his eyes at the behavior of his younger brother. Seriously, he shouldn't cling so much to the potato bastard.

The door to the meeting room opened, as the nations poured out of the room. "I'm telling you frog, English food is just fine," England narrowed his eyes at his French companion. "Yeah right, Angleterre, and I'm still a virgin," snickered the blue eyed nation. It looked like another of their fights was about to break out, but Germany strictly stopped them: "I don't care what is this about again, but shut up."

Neither of them was paying attention to their surroundings. So they didn't notice as some strange figure in dark cape rounded hurriedly from around the corner and started to run towards them. But they did notice the distant yell: "Stop! Stop him!" They looked in the direction of the voice, only to see the dark figure close by and strange glint in his hand.

All three nations tried to get out of the way, but it was too late to for any real attempt to stop the man. He was too close. But only one of them was his target. England shifted his weight back to get out of the way and raised his left arm in defense. But he reacted too late, and sharp pain ran through his body, as the blade, the dark figure was holding cut his arm almost all the way from the elbow to the wrist. He cried out and fell to the ground.

Germany quickly composed himself and attacked the man, striking down on the man's arm, to get him to let go of the knife, which France immediately kicked away. Germany got behind the man and slid his arm under the stranger's, effectively immobilizing him. Second after that, the man slouched down, as if he had no more in charge of his body.

"Angleterre," called out France and kneeled down beside the shocked Brit, who was clutching his bleeding arm. The green eyes nation was visibly trembling, but France had to make sure. "Are you okay," he asked. England didn't say anything but nodded. France frowned. It was bad, if England didn't snap at him to mind his own business.

France heard swearing. When he turned, he saw Germany, lying down the bastard, who hurt his friend. "What it is?" he couldn't help but wonder. Germany glared at the body on the floor and said, "He is dead. The bastard somehow killed himself, so now we can't ask him anything." France's eyes widened, "He did what?"

Germany only shook his head. "Nevermind," he said, "You have to get England to the infirmary. That blade might have been poisoned." The flirtatious nation nodded and swept England to his hands. Not even this drew any reaction from England. France frowned, but didn't say anything and headed for the infirmary.


	2. Chapter 2

"Ouch!" England hissed. Right he was sitting on the examination table in the infirmary and was having his wound disinfected and bandaged. But the disinfectant stung like hell. The small woman, that was nurse here, looked apologetically at him. "I-I'm s-sorry, sir," she pulled the cleaning tampon away.

France, who was leaning against the wall till now, pushed himself away and walked over them. Then he leaned down and put his chin on the nurse's shoulder, who immediately blushed, "Ah, mon ami, don't make the work for this lovely mademoiselle harder than it is." England glared, grabbed the first thing that came to his hand, which was the nurse's clip board, and smacked France across his face.

"Can you, please, not to flirt with everyone?" England snapped at the blue eyed nation. "Oww, that hurt Angleterre," France whined, but then he smirked, "Are you, by any chance, jealous, mon amour?" England looked, like he was going to hit France again. "Jealous? Of y?" he you?" he sneered, "I'm just trying to save this poor soul from your devil grasp. Because you only play with everyone and then you throw them away…"

France looked hurt. "Do you really think that?" he asked quietly. England thought for a second, that he should apologize. "Eh, maybe it really seems so," France reached with his hand and took England's hand in his, who tensed, "But it isn't so… really." Everything seemed to freeze in the room. France suspected that England even stopped breathing. It seemed like eternity, but it couldn't be more than couple of seconds. The spell was finally broke, when the nurse moved. "Umm, M-Mr. F-France," the poor nurse stuttered, "C-can you move p-please? I have to bandage Mr. E-England's a-arm."

England's face immediately reddened, he quickly jerked his hand away from France's, as if it burned, and smacked France's hand. "W-What do you think, touching me like that, you bloody Wanker?" England exclaimed. France dramatically cradled his "hurt" hand, "Ah, mademoiselle he is all yours. He is too violent for me to handle."

England looked like, he was snap something back at the blue eyed nation, but the nurse pressed the tampon wet from disinfectant on his arm, causing him to hiss again at the stinging feeling. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said, but it was clear, that she wasn't sorry at all. She just wanted to distract him, so the two nations wouldn't start a fight in her office. Then she quickly grabbed a roll of bandages and started to wrap the Britons arm.

When she was done she stood up and walked over to a cabinet. She opened it and pulled out a few bags of bandages. "Y-You have to re-bandage your arm every morning, to keep it from getting infected, okay?" the nurse said and handed the bandages to England, who took it, "And you should go to your personal doctor for check up next week." England nodded and put back on his uniform jacket, which he had to strip down to have his arm treated. The sleeve was torn, but that was not so important, he will throw it away, as soon as he comes home.

He was about to stand up and leave together with France, when there was a knock on the door to the office. France went over to the door and opened them, only to be rashly pushed out of the way, by a panicked America, who threw himself at England. He hugged the older nation in bone crushing hug. Literally. He still didn't know his didn't know his own strength at times. "IIIGGGGGGGGGGGGYYYYYYYYY, DON'T DIEEEEEEEEE!" screamed the superpower, "PPLLLEEEEAAAAASSSSSEEEEEEE DON'T DIEEEEEEEEE, I WILL SAVE YOUUUUU, I'M HERO AFTER AAALLL!"

It could have been funny, if it wasn't for the blue tinge that started England's face to have. So France decided to come to the rescue, "Amérique, mon ami, maybe you should let Angleterre go. I don't think he is getting any air." America looked at England's face and when he saw his unusual color, he quickly let him go, causing him to sway. He might have fallen, if America didn't caught him by arm and steady him.

"I'm sorry Iggy," America apologized. England was panting, trying to catch on the air he lost. "D-Don't call me that," he panted out. America pouted. "I seriously thought you were going to die," he whined. England raised eyebrow. "America, it's only my forearm," he pointed out. "ONLY FOREARM?" America exclaimed, "YOU WERE ATTACKED FOR GODS SAKE!"

England sighed, "Don't yell America, you are in infirmary…" America huffed after this, but stayed quiet. Another knocking drew their attention. France took it upon himself, to open the door again, to reveal serious looking Germany. "Are you okay?" he quickly asked England. The green eyed nation rolled his eyes, "Yes, it was only scratch."

Germany nodded. "I apologize, that something like this happened, while I was hosting the summit. I had the body brought into the pathology to be searched, I will contact you as soon as we have some results," he said in business like voice. "That' good," England said softly, "And don't worry about it too much. It could have happened to any of us."

Then Germany's cell phone rang. He calmly pulled it out of his pocked, and flicked it open, "Hello?" At first there was only soft sound of breathing. "Hello? Mr. Germany?" said a voice on the other side, "Here is Doctor Zimmermann." "Ah, Doctor, I was meaning to call you," Germany said, "I want to ask you, when will be the results from the biopsy." The voice on the other side clicked impatiently, "I will start as soon, as you deliver me the body…"

Germany stood there shocked. "WHAT?" he exclaimed, "I brought the body about 20 minutes ago…" The other side was in shocked silence. "How the hell could you loose a dead body?" Germany barked into the phone. "I-I'm very s-sorry, sir, but there is really nothing. No dead body, no nothing," the other man stuttered in fear of the great nation. "I will be right there, we shall discuss this incompetence," said angry Germany and shut his phone, not wanting to hear any excuses. "I have to go now," Germany said to his companions, "Apparently a dead body can move on its own now." There was much sarcasm in his voice. France and England nodded and Germany left.

France then turned to England, "Come on, mon ami, I will take you home. I bet Allemagne already sent everyone home in armored cars." He grabbed England's hand and started to pull him out. "Hey," America protested. He wanted to be the one that takes England home. Not this molesting Frenchman.

Even the nurse called after them, "S-sirs, you forgot the bandages." France grabbed the bandages. "I will take Angleterre home," he said firmly to America, "And you should go home as well. I think Canada might be missing you, don't you think?" America opened his mouth to say something, but then he closed it again. He had to admit, that France might have have a point. But only a bit. So he let it be and let France drag England away. Even if the Briton struggled against the Frenchman, throwing curses.

**Hello every one. I hope you enjoy my writings. I just want to say you, that I like, no scratch that, love reviews. I literally live from them. So if you want more updates, review so I won't die. Thank you. **


	3. Chapter 3

England was glaring while looking out of the window. That stupid Frog was handling him like a cripple. He practically sat him in his Peugeot and belted him in, as if he was not capable of doing that himself. What was he? A Doll? But England wasn't exactly in the mood for a fight, so he decided on the next available option: he was ignoring France.

The journey to London took longer than it should have been. But then again, France was driving slower than normally. Part of the reason was that he didn't want England to be uncomfortable because of his injury. Even if it was small. Yeah, he was a bit protective of his "little" England.

That and he had to be careful on his friend's streets. Okay, maybe that was the main reason. How could England still be driving on the left side of the road? It was so… un-natural. "Git, if you go this slowly, we will come home around Christmas…" England was getting impatient. France laughed and looked at the younger nation, "Ho ho, are you so impatient to be wiz me home alone?"

England wanted to protest, but suddenly he gave out a strangled sound. "EYES ON THE ROAD, FROG! ON THE ROAD!" he yelled and quickly reached for the wheel. At this France snapped his head to the front, only to see that he stranded to the opposite side of the road and a car was coming on them. So he hurriedly turned the wheel and the car returned to correct side of the road, the other car missing them only by inches.

There was a few seconds of shocked silence. Then England exploded: "WHAT DID YOU THINK YOU STUPID FROG?" France laughed nervously, "He he, zey vere driving on ze wrong side?" England's eyebrow twitched, "Git, you were at the wrong side…" France pouted, "Why do you insist on driving on left side? Most of other countries ride on right side… It's un-natural to do otherwise." England's face reddened, "Un… Unnatural? Before you even thought of driving on right side, everyone was driving on left…"

The rest of the journey was in silence. No other… accidents happened. As soon as France pulled into England's driveway, England unbelted and jumped out of the car, not waiting for France to start babying him again. The Frenchman was calling after him, but England didn't look back.

After the door was closed, France immediately hugged England, not paying attention to the struggle England was putting on. "I'm glad," France whispered, and surprised England immediately stopped, "I'm glad that you are okay." They stayed like that for a few minutes before England nervously called out, "Umm, France? C-can you let go..?"

France let England go and headed for the kitchen saying something about how hungry England has to be. England only shrugged, and told him no French food. Then he sat on the couch in the living room, not knowing what else to do.

It wasn't long before France called him. France complained a bit about the lack of the food in England's kitchen, but otherwise they ate in silence.

"So…" France started, "Where am I going to sleep?" England furrowed his eyebrows, "I hope you are not asking what I think you are asking… There is no way, I'm letting you stay in my house, Frog." France intertwined his hands and gently put his head on them. "Really?" he asked amused, "And you will change your bandages how?"

England frowned. He completely forgot about that. "I…" he started, thinking about an excuse, "will ask one of my brothers?" France gave England disbelieving look, because he knew that the Englishman had with his brothers even worse relationship that he had with France. England twitched. He didn't want to give in yet. But there was no other way. "Fine," he said finally, "You can stay in the guest room…"

- APH – APH – APH –

_England slowly opened his eyes and looked around. He didn't recognize his surroundings, but somehow he felt, like he should. Like he was here before, but he didn't know when. It didn't even look like some place in the present. _

_The air smelled… different. There was not a single trace of smog that was present these days. He didn't even see any building, just… grass, and mist. That was all to be seen. And it was cold. Despite all that, England felt at ease. Somehow the atmosphere was calming him down. Maybe it was the silence, because the only sound to be heard was the sound of England's own breathing. _

_England started to walk, wanting to explore the place he was at. But the further he got, the clearer it was, that the place was bare. He was about to give up, when his foot stepped into water. Surprised he jumped back. He looked down and noticed that he was at a shore of some kind. The Englishman strained his eyes and noticed that he was at a lake, that he didn't notice before, because of all that mist. _

_Something was pulling him further, telling him, it was okay. So he made a step into the water, but to his surprise his foot stayed on the surface of the water, as if it was solid. So he went further. He walked to the middle of the lake. _

_When he was there, he looked around. Now he could barely see the shore. Then he noticed a movement from the corner of his eye. But it wasn't anywhere up, it was under the surface. There was something. England couldn't see it clearly, so he dropped to all four, to get a better view. _

_To his horror he came face to face with his own... well face. He saw himself, floating in the water under the surface. He looked pale, very pale. No, that wasn't it. The him, in the water, was ghostly white, the skin looking as reminding him of something disgusting, he didn't want to name. His eyes were half lidded, revealing his dull green eyes, and his hair was even messier than in reality, with greenish tinge to it, looking more like sea-grass than hair. The Dead England was wearing a white habit of some sorts, with green cape on top of that, reminding England of the clothes that he was wearing in Dark Ages. _

_England was frozen to his spot. It was weird to be looking at his dead body. He wanted to run away, but he couldn't move. He couldn't even breathe. Suddenly Dead England shot his arms above the surface, grabbing horror stricken England by his arms in steel grip. England screamed in terror and started to struggle, in desperate attempt to free himself. But the hands didn't let go, and he was quickly pulled, head first, into the ice cold water. He opened his mouth to scream again, but only bubbles came out. And then there was only darkness. _

- APH – APH – APH –

England woke up with a start, the scream dying on his lips. His body was trembling, and he was panting, as if he just ran a marathon. The door to his room opened with a bang, further startling the Englishman, revealing worried looking France. "Angleterre, vhat happened?" he asked and ran to England. The Englishman was still panting and unable to answer the French, which only worried the older nation further.

"Angletterre?" France called out, "Angleterre, are you okay?" He was holding the Englishman's shoulders and shaking him a bit. Finally England pulled himself together and snapped at France, "Enough!" France immediately stopped and hugged England in relief. "I thought someone was attacking you… You were screaming…" he said.

"I… I was only having a nightmare," England said and looked away, "I'm sorry about that…" France squeezed him harder, "Zat's okay. I'm here now…" England sighed, "Git…" But he didn't push France away. He couldn't bring himself to do so. So they just lied there like that, with England in France's arms, and slowly they slipped back into the land of dreams.

**Today, I was kindly reminded, that I didn't update this for a long time, so I finally got myself to write the next chapter. The reviewers get the updates, peace with you. :D**


	4. Chapter 4

For some reason or other America insisted that England had to visit him. His excuse? That England didn't visit him for some time now. Apparently a few days translate in American dictionary as "some time". But nobody tried to explain that to the hyperactive nation. It was hopeless.

But actually, for once nor England nor France protested. Truthfully, England wanted to get away from France, as he was at his wits end after those few days that he lived with him, and Franca was to meet with Canada and he didn't want to leave England alone. So England was now in America sitting with the bespectacled nation in one of the fast foods he was so fond of.

"So…" England started, not really knowing what he wanted to say, so he just choose be general, "How are you?" America looked up from eating his fifth (or was it already sixth?), hamburger. "Itsh phine," he said with his mouth still full. England frowned at this. It was so disgusting. "Really now, how many times should I tell you, not to talk with your mouth full?" he scolded the younger nation. America looked at him and then he just shrugged.

A vein popped on England's forehead. Then he sighed, "I definitely didn't raise to behave right this…" America looked like he didn't know what England was talking about. England just shook his head, not wanting to deal with the younger nation's childish behavior. He didn't want to fight right now.

"So…" England tried to start conversation again, "Why did you call me here?" America didn't answer right away. He rather chewed on his food. Oh no, the world is going to end! "I only wanted to see you," America pouted. England rolled his eyes, "Yeah right. But now for real, why did you wanted to see me?"

America took another bite from his burger. "I wanted to get you away from that slug eating pervert," he said seriously, "He is weird. I know it! I bet it was him, who called that assassin." England stared at America as if he suddenly grew a second head. Did he just say, that France wanted to kill him? That was just ridiculous.

"America, that is the stupidest thing you ever said," England said. America opened his mouth to defend himself, but suddenly there was a loud crash and sounds of screeching. The people around them were screaming. They quickly looked in the direction of the crash and saw a car hurrying towards them on the side walk. It was clear, that it was headed for them.

America immediately threw himself on England, pushing them both out of the way, just in time, as the car whizzed past them, and then sped away. They were both silent for a few second. Then England groaned, rubbing his ass, because he fell straight on it. It wasn't very nice feeling.

America pulled out his cell phone. His hands were trembling slightly, as he called someone. "Mattie, it happened again," America whined, when his younger brother Canada picked up. 'Great,' England thought, 'He and France will probably come over, just like the worry warts, they are…'

A man was sitting in a dark room. As cliché as it sound, but he like the darkness. It was calming down his headache, which was suffering from because of his useless servants. Because how hard was to fulfill one order? But they were taking too long. And he didn't even wanted much. Just to kill the nation of England. See? Not hard.

But the servant that he ordered to do it, was just kneeling before him, apologizing, that he failed. Again. "Enough!" the man yelled. He was really nuisance. "I never should have given you this second chance," he growled, "I should have let you stay dead when you didn't manage to stab that horrible English nation."

"M-Master," the servant stuttered, "Give me please another chance. Just one more chance, and I swear that I will kill England for you…" The man glared. "No," he said, "You had you "another chance" already." The servant's eyes widened. He wanted to scramble away, but before he could even move, the man stood up and called out a word in ancient language. Suddenly a lightning came out of his hand and struck the servant, instantly killing him.

The man sat back down and massaged his temples. Killing certainly gave him headaches. But that should soon pass away. Right after he kills England.

"Kayla," he called out and a woman came into his view. She kneeled down before him. "I hope, you will do better than you brother," the man said, "Your family served mine for generations, so make sure, that this won't be the last generation, got it?" Kayla nodded, and quickly left. She had nation to kill and no time, to spare.

The man sighed and took a very old book. Because this was the book, that started everything. It was a book of magic. Ancient magic, that was bound to nations. He didn't, how his family even obtained such book, but it was in his family for centuries. And now it was in his possession. The first time, he read it, he immediately knew, that he could make his dreams come true. And it took only so little. The man grinned like a madman, and chuckled darkly. Soon, he it would all come to an end.


	5. Chapter 5

England was in a tight spot. Literally. And not only because someone was trying to kill him. Right now he couldn't even move. He was just glad that he could breathe with those two leeches that were squeezing him. France and America were leaning heavily on him and hugging him tightly as if they wanted him to become one with them.

They were hugging him so tightly that they couldn't even move. And beside them was sitting Canada. He was watching them with an apologetic smile. They were here to discuss how to protect England from his assassins, but it seemed France and America were already at it.

Everyone was quiet, so quiet they could hear the ticking clock. Canada could almost use it as countdown for when England will blow up and throw those two out. Ah, England's face is getting redder and redder, three, two, one. "That's it!" England abruptly stood up, so that the other two fell down from the couch. "Ah Iggy, so cruel," America whined. France nodded, "Yeah, for once Angleterre I have to agree with Amerique. We are here to protect you."

England glared at them. "You are annoying," the Englishman hissed, "How do you think you would protect me, if you are glued to me? And besides I don't need your protection, so go away." The other three looked at each other. ""England," Canada almost whispered, "You were already attacked two times… This is serious."

England was about to say something else, when the door bell rang. Everybody flinched. France and America jumped to their feet, instantly on guard. "I will answer it," France said. England nodded and took a step back, so that France could make his way to the door.

France slowly approached the door. He could hear America behind him pulling out and cocking his gun, that he took with him almost everywhere. The Frenchman reached for the knob and carefully opened the door.

Behind the door stood four men, all in black suits. "Mister Kirkland?" asked one of them. France narrowed his eyes. "What do you want with him?" he asked coldly. "We were sent to protect him," said the same man. "Says you," America called from behind France. The man worldlessly reached into his suit, making both France and America tense, and pulled out some document and handed it to France.

France took it with suspiciously. He read it slowly. Then his face turned into a relieving one and he let the men in. "What are you doing, Frenchie?" America asked, his voice a bit higher than normal. "It's okay," France waved at them to calm down, "They are telling the truth."

"They are telling the truth," France said and handed England the document. The Englishman quickly skipped over the text and frowned. "What's the meaning of this?" he exclaimed, "How come, that the queen is sending four bodyguards to protect me? Who the bloody hell told her?"

France smiled, "That would be me. It is for your own good." England's face got red as he glared at France. "Who gave you the right to tell her? To even talk to my queen?" he hissed angrily. He was really pissed at France right now. He walked up to him and grabbed the front of his shirt. "Get out!" he yelled as he started to drag the meddling Frenchman to the main door.

France tried to protest, but England was really strong when pissed. England pushed France out of the door, "Get out of my sight, you stupid frog!" Then he slammed the door shut with satisfied smirk.

The four bodyguards looked as if nothing unusual happened, while America and Canada were standing there shocked. "En-.. erm Arthur, Francis was only trying to help," Canada tried to reason with the angry Englishman. He almost said England, but he was not sure, if those human bodyguards were informed about their situation and even then he was reluctant to use their nation names before them.

"I don't care!" England yelled. He pointed finger at Canada, who flinched, "He still had no right to annoy my queen with this." America approached England with his hands raised in an attempt to calm the Englishman, but before he even opened his mouth, England interrupted him. "I really had enough of you," he said in a low voice, "Leave. Both of you."

Neither America nor Canada dared to oppose him. They just quietly left, leaving England glaring at his new bodyguards. "Well?" England said coldly, "You won't leave by any chance, would you?" One of them, who looked like their leader, shook his head, "No Mister Kirkland, we have to stay here with you twenty-four seven, to protect you." England glared even harder. "Then at least stay out of my way, I have a work to do, and I don't want to be disturbed," he said and went upstairs to his office, slamming the door behind him.

- APH – APH – APH –

Kayla was sitting comfortably in the corner of a cozy restaurant, typing on her computer, a cup of coffee standing near. A self satisfied smirk made a way to her beautiful face. She was really proud of herself right now. She came up with such plan that was bullet proof. There was not way it could fail.

She wasn't a failure like her stupid brother. She will succeed at killing the man, who was called England and bring his body to her master. She will make herself worthy to her master. And maybe, just maybe, she will be so useful to him, that she will earn herself a new status after he gets what he wants from the nation of England.

Kayla closed the laptop after saving her work. Her plan was already in motion. It was so genial, that there was no way for it to fail. She could almost sit down and watch show. Almost. Except there was one little thing left for her to do. But after that, it will be only matter of hours for Arthur Kirkland to die. She just hoped that she will be the one to close his eyes. That would be a real cherry on top.

The woman finished her coffee in a single swig, packed her things and left some money before leaving the restaurant. Although she was almost finished with setting things, she still had to be careful and plan everything beforehand, so she, and above all her master, wouldn't be suspicious.

**Oh my… England got his own bodyguards, or did he? Are they really who they seem to be? And things between England and France got cold again, thanks to France's own meddling. What will happen next? Wait and see yourself. **


	6. Chapter 6

The nations were seating in yet another world meeting. It would be just like any other meeting, if not for England's bodyguards. It was actually quite a sight. Two of them were sitting beside the Englishman, one on each England's side, and two were standing about half a meter behind him.

Majority of the nation were whispering among each other, gossiping about England. They were talking about how he was attacked at America. Some of them thought it was starting to get dangerous to be around England and that they should stay away as far as they could from him.

"Aya, I wouldn't go near him," China whispered to his neighbor, which happened to be Japan, "His bad luck could rub on us and we might get killed aru." Japan looked a bit skeptical, but nodded politely anyway.

The meeting was dragging as usual. France tried to start some conversation with England, but the Englishman was still angry at him and was ignoring him. It went to the point that one of the bodyguards told him off.

Around lunch time Germany allowed them a hour long break. The nations were pouring out of the meeting room. But England stayed in his seat. "You can go for a lunch," he said to his bodyguards, without even glancing at them, "I will just stay here." They leader shook his head and protested, "We can do that." England sighed, "Just go. I want to be alone."

The bodyguard wanted to protest again, but he just shrugged. "Fine, but we will be outside the door," he said to England and stood up. They all left, closing the door behind them, leaving England alone, just as he wished.

England was tired of this situation. If it wasn't for that stupid France… He just had to go to his queen and open his big fat mouth. In his despair England raised his arms and ran his hands through his hair, in half thought to start to tear them out. He tiredly closed his eyes.

- APH – APH – APH –

_Next time England opened his eyes, he wasn't in the meeting room anymore. He was surrounded by heavy mist again. He had the same feeling as the last time he was here. Or more specifically, the last time he dreamed about this place. But knowing it was only a dream didn't help England to calm down. This place was really creepy. _

_Suddenly many silhouettes appeared in the mist. It took a few moments before the silhouettes sharpened and came out of the mist for England to see. England gasped as he saw many people. He knew they were nations, because he recognized some of them. There was his mother Britannia, Gaul, Germania, Rome, and many others, whom he didn't recognize. _

_Another thing England noticed, that they were all dead nations. There wasn't even a single nation that was living these days. None of them was looking at him. They were just standing there with their eyes half closed. It was really creepy. He felt as if it was a sign that he will soon join them. _

_England turned around with the intention to run away from there, only to come face to face with a full length mirror. At first he only saw himself. But then a silhouette of a man appeared behind him. Unfortunately it was too blurred to be recognizable. England gasped and looked behind him, but there was nothing of course. When he looked back into the mirror, the man was gone. _

_Then the Mirror England started to change. He was aging rapidly. His unruly sandy blond hair graying quickly and soon his face had more wrinkles than hundred years old human. It looked almost as if England's real age was catching up with him. England reached on of his shaking hands towards the mirror, but as soon as he touched the ice cold surface, the Mirror England crumbled into dust._

- APH – APH – APH –

England opened his eyes with a gasp. His whole body was shaking. He was sitting back in the meeting room. He felt the weight of another hand on his shoulder. When he glanced over his shoulder he saw the bodyguard, whom he thought to be leader, looking at him with blank face. "Are you okay Mr. England?" the bodyguard asked. England nodded, "Yeah, I'm fi-… What did you just call me? How do you know about it?" The bodyguard smirked, "Maybe you should leave your documents out in the open…"

With that he sat besides England and crossed his arms. They hadn't spoken to each other until the meeting was over. England knew that those bodyguards were sent by his queen to keep him safe, but he still felt uncomfortable in their presence. And now with one of them knowing about him being a nation, his paranoia only worsened.


	7. Chapter 7

Allan McNair. That was the name of the bodyguard, that talked mostly to England and that knew about him being England. He didn't like it. It was a Scottish name. He really didn't need his brother's people to baby-sit him. That was really humiliating.

England was almost regretting ever asking Allan his name. But at that time he felt it would be only fair if they both knew each other's names. But it didn't help his mind, nor did he felt safer. Damn this whole situation. Damn that assassin. And before all, damn France, because this is his fault.

They were all currently in a grocery shop, shopping for ingredients for their dinner. The bodyguards were standing pretty close to him and were distracting him. He didn't like being in the centre of attention, but now he felt as if he was literally wearing shirt with a target on his back. He could feel the stares of everyone in the shop.

England was picking up his things, Allan by his side. He was almost non-stop smirking, which unnerved England. He really didn't like this guy. He really was a Scotsman. Living just to tease English people. Or at least so it seemed to England. Allan reminded England of his brother, save he didn't have red hair and wasn't smoking. But the latter was probably prohibited at work, so it didn't count.

- APH – APH – APH –

Kayla wanted to laugh hysterically, but that would have ruined her image. That and the people around her would look at her weirdly. And that was the last thing she wanted. Right now she couldn't attract attention to herself. She had to look completely normal.

Even though she wanted to scream out from joy. Everything was finally on place. Now she only had to wait a few hours tops and the victory in this little game she was playing with England would be hers. She just could wait. It was as if she was a kid in a candy shop and someone was bringing her her allowance.

- APH – APH – APH –

England was standing in front of his house. His so called bodyguards were checking the house, if it was safe for him to enter. Did they really think that someone would break into his house and set there something up? That was ridiculous. Nobody besides the prime minister, the royal family and of course other nations.

So instead to do their job properly, they went inside, leaving him alone here. He was more in danger here out alone than if he went straight into the house. Could it be…? That they were actually doing something in there? No, he can't think like that. He was becoming paranoid. Soon he might start to suspect his friends and his family.

England sighed as he crossed his arms on his chest. How long will it take them? The frozen food was starting to melt. If he doesn't put it into the freezer soon, it will be all wasted. Then he would be really pissed.

"It's okay," called Allan from inside. England rolled his eyes. Of course it was okay. It was his house. If they just listened to him, they would have spared themselves of this all. It was really tiring and completely unnecessary.

England leaned down and picked up the grocery bags. He was really going to kill Allan if something was spoiled. And he would have continued in his ranting, if he wasn't stopped by a sudden scream. He didn't have the time to fully register what or who it was, when he was suddenly thrown away by a big explosion, which source was of course his house.

England was thrown a few meters away by the sheer force of pressure wave of said explosion. The last thing his fogging mind registered was burning pain, spreading through his whole body. He didn't even hear the screams erupting all around him, nor did he feel anything else for that matter. He just closed his eyes, giving himself up to the welcoming darkness.

**Hmm, let's do some math now: **

**Number of attacks on England – 3**

**Number of dead people – 5 **

**Mnnm, isn't it nice to have it summed up? Though it is turning into a blood bath…**


	8. Chapter 8

France was walking swiftly along the long corridor of the BuckinghamPalace. He was quite pissed and everyone could see it. Anyone who was stupid enough to get into his way was quickly thrown away.

The guards tried to stop him, but they quickly ended up crumbled on the floor. France burst through the door. In the room, that he so rudely invaded, was sitting the British Queen. She looked shocked for a second, but then she smiled faintly. "I was expecting you Mr. Bonnefoy," she said calmly, as she set down her cup of tea.

"I don't have time for a chit chat," France growled, "What zhe hell happened?!" The queen sighed. "So you heard already?" she asked more to herself. "Of course I heard! It's all over the British news!" France yelled, "I thought they were supposed to guard him!" The Queen raised an eyebrow, "You watch our news regularly? Anyways, they were our best agents." France banged his fist on the table before the Queen, "Then your agents are useless!" The Queen glared, "Mr. Bonnefoy, four people died there today, so pay a little respect please!"

France wanted to say something else, but bit his lower lip to stay silent. He knew that the Queen was right and he was getting rude. But he asked for her help to protect England it obviously failed miserably. He had a right to be a little frustrated.

"I'm sorry Your Majesty," he said as calm as he managed. "Apology accepted," the Queen nodded. France sighed loudly "How is he?" he asked. The Queen looked sad. "He is fine, mostly…" she started. "But?" France pushed.

"But he is temporary deaf," came a new voice from the door. France spun around and saw a tall slender man with black hair slicked back and big round glasses sitting on his nose. "W-what did you say?" France asked confused, "And who are you?" The man pushed his glasses up his nose, "I'm Freedman, palace doctor. I said, that Mr. Kirkland is physically mostly fine, but he is temporary deaf. And he suffered mental shock, but that is understandable considering the circumstances, but I can't say how much, because he refuses to talk to me…"

Temporary deaf? France froze horrified. That couldn't be true, could it? "C-can I see him?" he asked the doctor. He looked at him and for a few seconds didn't say anything. Then he slowly nodded. "You are his acquaintance, right?" he tried to reassure, "Then it might be beneficial for him."

The man then led France through another corridor. Neither of them spoke. There was no need. France didn't want to be in this man's presence longer than absolutely necessary and by the suspicious glance of the doctor, he felt the same about France. Like a true Englishman, he was not very trusty towards anything French.

The doctor opened big wooden door for him, but he himself didn't enter. France entered the room, which was the Palace sick bay, and immediately spotted England. He was sitting on the farthest bed, which was right under a window, with his legs pulled to his chest and blanked draped around him.

England was looking out of the window with an empty look. France called to him, but then he cursed. The younger man was temporarily deaf, so of course he wouldn't hear him. So he walked slowly to him, careful to get into the Englishman's vision, before touching his shoulder gently.

Without blinking England shifted his gaze to France. Then they filled with tear and he leaned to France and hid his face in his shirt. France wrapped his arms around the smaller man, trying to comfort him.

"Four people died today and it's all my fault," England sobbed out. France frowned and pulled away, "It's not your fault. It's that bastards fault!" He just hoped that England understood him somehow even if he couldn't hear him right now.

England's eyes flicked to his lips and a look of deep concentration appeared on his face. After a moment he hung his head low. He was shivering, so France wrapped one arm around him and used the other hand to tip England's face upward so he could read his lips. "I won't let that bastard hurt you again. I promise…"

For a second they stayed like that, but then it seemed like they started to get closer. France could feel England's breath on his face. They lips were only millimeters apart, but then the door opened abruptly, causing them to flinch. Well, England's was more of a reaction to France's flinch.

"I'm sorry sirs, but Mr. Bonnefoy can you come out for a second?" the doctor said flatly. France almost glared at that man, but refrained to do so. He sighed and stood up. When he noticed England to look up him questioningly, he reassured him, "I will be right back, okay?" When England slowly nodded France exited the infirmary.

"Ah, Miss, is Maria's shift over already?" the doctor stopped a passing nurse, who nodded shyly, when she saw France, "Okay. Anyway, can you do the check up on our patient? I think he will be more cooperative now…"

They walked back to the salon where the Queen was waiting for them. France didn't even sit on the offered chair, when the Queen asked him, "What will you do now?" France blinked. "I…" he started, "I will take E-Arthur with me. Whether he likes it or not, because he tends to disagree with me." They both chuckled, ignoring the doctor completely. "Good to hear that," the queen sighed, "And just so you know… I think of Arthur as my own grandson and if you hurt him…" There was a hint of threat in her voice, but she kept on smiling. France smiled aswell, "I wouldn't even dream of it."

They were interrupted by quiet knock on the door. A young woman glimpsed inside the salon. "Ah Maria," the doctor said surprised, "I thought you left already, when that other girl took over for you…" The nurse looked confused. "My shift is not over yet, and there is not another nurse here," she said frowning.

France paled and bolted through the door, almost knocking the nurse over. The doctor and even the queen were following him. He ran straight to the infirmary, praying that he wouldn't be late.

When he burst into the infirmary, he saw the "nurse" leaning at England with a sword in her hands trying to slit England's throat, but England was resisting. But it was clear, that in his current weakened state, the Englishman wouldn't last much longer.

In a split second enraged France was at their side, grabbed the female by the back of her uniform and literally threw her into the opposite was. Then he quickly stood between them, fully prepared to protect England and beat the foolish woman, lady or not.

But to his surprise she laughed hysterically. "I failed," she said more to herself, "I can't believe I failed my master. In the end, I'm not better from my idiot brother. And I only had to do one thing. Guess I'm not that good after all."

Then, before France could even move, she grabbed her sword again, but she showed it into her own stomach, blood spraying everything around. Her last words were directed straight at England, "Don't worry, my Master will take care of you soon enough…" And with that she exhaled for the last time, leaving her eyes dull.

The door opened and inside came the doctor, two guards and the Queen. "Oh my," the Queen gasped. The doctor looked like he was going to be sick, but he managed to stay professional enough not to puke all over the infirmary.

"She is dead," France spat at the guards, "the danger is over, no thanks to you." Oh how he wanted to hurt someone. The assassin managed to get so close to England, and he almost lost him.

Nobody noticed as England stood up and shuffled over to the woman's body, picking something up from the puddle of blood. It was a pendant of some sorts. He wiped the blood away, to get a better look and froze.

"That's it," France exclaimed, "We are leaving. Right now!" He turned to England, only now noticing, he was by the body and was shivering. He stepped to him. "Arthur?" he asked, putting his hand gently on the younger man's shoulder.

But England, flinched and bolted out of the room. "England!" France called after him, but that didn't stop him. It couldn't as he didn't even hear him. France swore and quickly followed him.

They ran through various corridors before France finally caught up with England. He grabbed his arm, but England lost his balance and fell. France sunk to his knees, helping England up. "What do you think you are doing?!" he yelled worriedly.

"I can't stay here!" England sounded hysterical, "It's them!" France didn't understand. Who was them? "Who?" he asked as calmly as he managed. "They!" England yelled, seeing France's confused face, "She had this…" And he pushed the pendant into France's hands. The Frenchman looked at the thing in his hands and his eyes widened. Now he understood. It couldn't be. But the evidence was lying in his hands.

The Tudor's Rose.

**Oh my. So many things happened. England's is deaf. For now… France got co-… I mean kiss-blocked and broke his promise. I'm so evil. But the most important thing.**

**Tudor's Rose**

**I wanted to explain it, but then I decided, I won't tell you right not. You can do some research. ;) My teacher always said, that what we find ourselves, we will remember better. If someone still can't find it, or doesn't understand it, they can PM me, and I can tell you, or explain it in the next chapter. **

**And I want to apologize to UK readers. It's not really as it seems. Well, not really. I-It's just for the sake of this story… Don't kill me. Please?**

**My appologies, to Guest. I was thinking of more about World Wars and forgott to consider many of France's battle successes. I'm sorry again. I know that France has great army. Légion étrangère is considered the thoughest and he certainly was an world empire... But still it was stupid of me to write, what I wrote.  
><strong>


	9. Chapter 9

**Yeah, chapter for those, who are still walking in dark. J**

France glanced at England, who was currently sleeping on his couch. They came to his Paris' apartment only about half a hour ago, but England was so exhausted, that he immediately crashed down on the couch and fell asleep. Not that France blamed him.

The Frenchman was shocked too. He was still gripping the Tudor's Rose tightly in his hand. He didn't want to give it back to England. He was very upset as it was. No wonder, when one thinks about what it is.

France leaned back on the chair he was sitting on and sighed heavily. He brought his hand in front of him and loosened his grip on the pendant, so it slid out of his hand and dangled on the chain in front of his face.

There, it was still there. The proof of the biggest betrayal in the whole history. In the form of an innocent pendant looking like two flowers joined.

France couldn't recall if there was a similar case. The closest that something got to this situation was probably when his people killed the King Luis and Queen Marie Antoinette. But then again, at that time it was his people displeased with their boss. But this. France closed his eyes. He was tired, so very tired. He almost felt all the years he lived downing on him.

The Tudor's Rose was symbol of England. Symbol of English nobility. For an assassin to have a pendant, that was clearly expensive and made by an expert, meant only one. That the one, that is behind the attacks on England was someone from his own people. From his royalty. Talk about loyalty.

It certainly was not the Queen. France was sure about that. He knew her long enough to tell that. She loved and respected the English nation like a family. But it still did not lift the heavy feeling of betrayal from this situation.

France opened his eyes and glanced over at England. They will not stay here. It didn't feel safe, even if they were at France's. The Frenchman still felt, like they were too close to the threat. But he had to talk to his boss first. And as soon as that is sorted out, he would take England to his southern summer house at Saint Tropez. Even if he would have to drag England kicking and screaming.

A sharp knocking on his door brought France out of his door. He set the pendant down on the conference table and quietly walked to the door. He carefully opened the door and scowled. Outside his apartment was standing America, who was glaring daggers at him.

**Now for a really hard question. At first, I wanted to create an OC among the noble families, so it wouldn't be so insulting. And I don't really know much about those people, I only saw the pictures and they seem like a nice people. So I will rather ask you: Do you want the mastermind behind those attacks to be a real person, or would you rather him to be a OC brother of that real person?**


	10. Chapter 10

**Okay, I'm sorry for this hiatus. I'm graduating this year and I had really stressful time with my thesis. But now I'm getting back to you. Yay for me. :D**

"Where is he?" America practically growled. France narrowed his eyes. "Aren't you a bit rude?" he asked America coldly. He was practically invading his home and yet he acted so arrogant. Who does he think he is? Well obviously he is America, but that doesn't give him any right to act like this.

"I know he is here," America spit out. France crossed his arms on his chest. He wasn't not going just let America in. Not if he is this pissed. That certainly wouldn't help England in his current state. But America didn't look like he would step down either. He looked ready to push France away and just storm into his apartment.

And few seconds afterwards, he really did. He just pushed France aside and pushed his way through. He ran right past the couch, not noticing England lying there. He looked into every room in search of the Briton. Really loud on top of that, as he usually did. However he obviously didn't have any luck.

"Where is he?!" called America from the hallway. France raised his eyebrow. America was obviously stupid. More than usual if he didn't see England. But that was fine. Everyone was already used to it, so it was no news. Never mind that. France will let him make a fool out of himself for a bit longer.

America returned to the living room. "Francis, where, is, he?" he growled at the Frenchman. France grabbed at his collar. Alfred was really starting to cross the line. France would not tolerate his arrogant behavior much longer. Friend or not, he could still teach that idiot a lesson.

Then there was movement on the couch. Both men looked that way. They saw England sit up and looking sleepily around. His back was to them, so he didn't see them. "Iggy?" America called out. But England didn't respond. America frowned, thinking he didn't hear him. "England?" he called louder, but with the same reaction.

"Don't overexert it, he can't hear you, said France casually. America blinked and looked at France. "What do you mean?" he asked confused. "He is deaf," he said, trying to sound naturally. It took few seconds for America to fully take in those words. Then his face turned into horrified grimace, "WHAT?!"

France stayed calm. "There was an accident, and he is temporally deaf, so next time you want to talk to him, go into his field of vision, okay?" he said as calmly as he managed. America nodded enthusiastically. Then he practically launched himself on England. The second he touched the Briton, England screamed loudly and jumped far away.

France immediately pulled America back and started to scold him. England watched all that with wide eyes filled with terror, trembling all over. He didn't hear any of that yelling, that France and America did, but he saw their red faces. Slowly he calmed down. He sighed when he saw how heated those went about it.

Then he started to ignore them. They will stop when they want to. Though it was rare sight for France to be so riled up with anyone but England himself. It was quite strange sigh. But then again America could annoy the hell out of anyone. They didn't even seem to notice him. And that was something that irritated England, even though he didn't know why.

England took a deep breath. "Shut the fuck up, you bloody wankers," he yelled at them, successfully shocking them into silence. After a few seconds America grinned again. "Heya, you okay now dude?" America asked with a grin. England frowned, trying to make out what the American was saying. He wasn't so skilled at lip reading, but he could still guess. "Yeah, just fine, now why the hell are you here?" he glared at America.

America overlooked the angry tone of England and went to hug him. England stiffened, but soon he relaxed. He didn't even notice France glaring at America's back. After that they all settled on the couch, with France playing the perfect host, he was supposed to be, even though a bit strained. America left a few hours afterwards.


End file.
